Crap
by IConcurVehemently
Summary: It was like watching my parents break up. “It’s like you two missed your moment – and then you punished each other for it.” 100th EPISODE.


**Hello all!**

**So, after watching the infamous 100th episode - which was PHENOMENAL and HEARTCRUSHING all in one - this idea stuck with me. I guess this is a little drabbly-taggy kind of thing, but I felt that it needed to be said.**

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. If it was, then I wouldn't have cried for like three days after the end of the last episode.

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My book is crap.

No, scratch that.

My favorite case is crap.

Wait. In the style of our favorite ex-gambling addict – I'll see your crap, and I'll raise you one.

My _work_ is crap.

I wasn't completely wrong. There is a dam between those two, between those two infuriating people, that holds back six years of unresolved emotion – yes, even though the entire freaking story really started with a kiss, instead of maybe ending with one, the emotion remains unresolved. But the dam doesn't hold back fear of the unknown, like I thought.

It holds back fear of the _known._

Because they didn't ignore the attraction from the start; they _cultivated_ it. They nurtured it. Fostered it. Helped it grow. And just when it got to the cusp of blooming into something _fantastic_, they put up a wall in front of it, and worked for six years to pretend it never happened.

No, scratch that.

_That's_ what the dam is built around. It doesn't hold back the flood of emotion that might occur if the two finally danced their difficult dance into a romantic relationship. It holds back the flood of emotion that _would _happen.

These are the two most masochistic people I've ever met. And seeing six – _six!! _Not five. SIX! – years through that filter, my resolve finally broke.

"It's like you two missed your moment – and then you punished each other for it."

Of course, they didn't know what I meant – which is crap, because those are two of the smartest people I've ever met. They knew damn well what I was talking about, even agreed with it. Because that's what I do – I stand on the top of that damn dam and try to break it down with all of my strength, using stupid couples therapy techniques and basic psychology. And each and every day, they push against me. They buttress the dam because the two are too scared to revisit the paradise that they've so vehemently walled off.

And for two of the smartest people I know, they're idiots. I've conducted ten – _ten – _compatibility tests on those two. What's funny is that they never score higher than a three out of ten. But that's where those two demolish the theory of rock-paper-scissors: only in a handgame can paper beat rock. Those two have proven with rock-hard evidence that despite the fact that they have nothing in common, those two have more chemistry than one of Hodgins's explosions. Screw you, psychology. We'll obliterate your surveys with six years of undeniable proof.

But they never _really_ screw psychology. Because that was a huge red-flag for Lance. Two people that have absolutely nothing in common that have more compatibility than a custom-made lock and key?

That, folks, is what you call love.

I gotcha now, anthropology!

So I've sat here for the past two years and jumped up and down on top of the dam, slowly trying to encourage them to break it on their own. But, today they threw me a curveball. And they did it with a smirk, like two teenagers telling their parents ten years later about the time they messed up big as six year olds and got away with it.

And then they have the audacity to pretend to me, to _me,_ of all people, the freaking _expert_ on all things Booth and Brennan, that they aren't in love.

"If you're not in love, then how come you haven't been in any serious relationships since you first met, huh?"

They reply with some crap about "oh, I don't really do that" and "oh, I have a son, and a job, and…"

BULLSHIT. No more yelling from the top of the dam. I'm bringing out the dynamite.

"You." Booth's head snaps up. This is his worst nightmare; I'm calling him out. I'm not asking him to take the first step - I'm forcing him. "It's gotta be you, because _you're the gambler_." Begging. "For once – make that work for you."

I knew that big stuff was coming when they said they'd go get something to eat. Lucky for me, I have an office with lots of windows. Windows that don't look out over the way those two exited the building.

But luckier for me, I have an office on a hallway that has windows that do.

So, being the psychologist I am – alright, fine. Being the hopeless fanatic that keeps hoping the two of them will finally get together, I went to those hall windows and watched.

They walked out of the building. They walked down the stairs. And then the dam broke.

Booth. I always knew it'd be Booth who would finally make the move. I could practically feel him thinking about what I said - the desperate, urging words of their biggest fan - as he looked at her, resolve in his eyes, and vowed to make things work. Dynamite, in hand, fuse lit. He reached for her, pulled her to him with surprisingly less force than one would imagine, considering the six years of sexual buildup between them, and he kissed her.

Kaboom.

I'm glad it was really late and everyone else had left. I jumped like a freaking teenager.

But oh wait, that's crap too. Because then she had to go push him away.

I wasn't completely wrong – the dam did break. But Temperance Brennan, with her superhuman strength and resolve, patched it. Booth's action had the firepower to completely demolish all barriers between them – it should have. Booth offered her everything a person could ever want, psychologically and emotionally, paradise on a silver platter – and with superhuman strength, she refused.

Just when Eden's in sight, Eve decides she'd rather live in Hell.

There are a million feasible reasons why she said no, psychologically. She's scared. She doesn't think she's worthy of him. She doesn't believe in love. She doesn't put much stock in emotion. She's too afraid to jeopardize their partnership. She hates psychology.

But not a single one is good enough to throw away what the two of them have.

I kept watching, reading body language in place of words I couldn't hear. Booth kept trying – arms reaching, shoulders set forward, like he was ready to break down a wall. He was.

But Brennan wouldn't let that happen. Jaw set, shoulders in line. Not done without sadness – she's hurting herself – but she's one hundred percent certain that she's doing the right thing.

She's wrong, of course, but hey, that's why I'm here.

And with that resolve, and Booth's acceptance of extinguished hope, the two repair the walls they'd come _so freaking close_ to obliterating. And they walk away, arm in arm, heads together, broken hearted.

Thanks for the tickets to Heaven, Sweets, but we're just fine here in torture.

I stood there, shell-shocked. No. _No_. Booth asks Brennan for a shot, a shot of what would be perfect love – and she says no. But it's not that "Alright, that's it. I had a lot of fun working with you, but I best be moving on" kind of no; it's that "I'm too afraid to leave you so I'm gonna put myself through hell every day just so I can be with you, sort of" kind of no. On both sides.

I felt like I had just watched my mom and dad break up.

I felt like calling Daisy and saying, "Sorry, this won't work out. Because if those two don't get to have a perfect love, then there's no point in the rest of us even trying."

Crap.

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**And there you have it, folks: a little summation of the three days of desolation and despair that the latest adventures of B&B have caused me. **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Love,**

**Vehe :)**


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